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Ruthie beelines for the bathroom, presumably to get away from me angrily stuffing items into my suitcase. I’m not sure why I always have to be the responsible one with these two. You’d think for once—like maybe on my honeymoon—I’d get to be the carefree, spontaneous one.
I guess it just isn’t meant to be. Apparently I don’t have it in me. I shouldn’t blame Baggy and Ruthie because I didn’t inherit whatever loosey-goosey gene that allows them to not think about consequences or mundane things like jobs and bills. I wish I could do it, but I just can’t. If the temptation of spending more time with Kai in Hawaii can’t beat the sensibility out of me, I guess nothing ever will.
I try placing my paintings flat on top of my belongings in the suitcase, but I must not have packed as orderly as
